


From the Ashes of Winter

by Ttttrickster (iscatterthemintimeandspace)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gen, New Beginnings, Pain, Seasons, Spring, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 12:22:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13927080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iscatterthemintimeandspace/pseuds/Ttttrickster
Summary: Spring was all about new beginnings and Gabriel could use one right about now.Written for the Seasons: Supernatural Fanfic Anthology.





	From the Ashes of Winter

As an angel, Spring had always been his favorite season, the barrenness of winter bursting forth into the fruitful greenness of spring. Gabriel loved watching flowers bloom, the birth of baby animals, the world coming alive again. 

 

Spring was the first thing he was aware of when his father brought him back. He was walking naked along a highway in Atlantic, Iowa, watching fledglings take their first flights on unsteady wings, when Cas found him, and pulled him back in. He’d been a clean slate, free of any baggage or obligations, but Cas had robbed him of it. 

 

Spring was all about new beginnings and Gabriel could use one right about now. 

 

They were helping Sam and Dean on a hunt when he saw the studio, tucked among kitschy tourist shops. He didn’t know what possessed him to go inside, but once he was inside, he couldn’t make himself walk back out. 

 

He’d always wanted a tattoo, but as an angel, it was kind of a moot point. His grace healed his vessel almost as soon as the ink was pushed in, but he was human now. People often got tattoos to commemorate significant events in their lives, why couldn’t he?

 

It took an hour for him to come up with an idea he was happy with, and another fifteen minutes for the artist to set up. He led Gabriel to a funny looking chair, with a seat, the back on the front and a platform for his arms and legs. The artist had him strip off his shirt, and barely refrained from wincing at the scar tissue where his wings used to be. He had Gabriel sit, so his back was facing him and Gabriel’s legs were tucked under him, leaning forward against the padded front. 

 

Gabriel's eyes closed as the man began to work on him, washing his back down with cold alcohol and running a cheap disposable razor over his skin. By the time he had put the stencil on Gabriel’s skin and gotten his machine ready, Gabriel was almost asleep. 

 

He heard the buzz of the machine and he tensed, not knowing what to expect as the artist pressed the gun to his skin. 

 

It took a full minute before he registered the pain that was arching up his spine. He bit his lip to stifle a groan as the artist traced the stencil into his skin. 

 

If he still had his grace, the pain would only feel like a feather brushing against him, but he was human now, fragile, and soft and capable of feeling pain. It was agony. 

 

He was an archangel for Dad’s sake, but each swipe of the needle has him biting his lip until he tasted blood. He could stop, but he needed the pain to keep him grounded, to make his new state real for him. 

 

He rested his chin against the chair, closing his eyes and uncurling his hands, spreading them wide against the vinyl platform. Gabriel took a breath and tried to think of things in his life that were more painful than this. 

 

Watching his brothers fight. 

 

Watching Lucifer fall. 

 

Michael pretending everything was alright, even when it clearly wasn’t. 

 

His family splintering. 

 

Leaving Heaven behind. 

 

Facing life on  Earth alone. 

 

Losing his second family. 

 

Gabriel twitched as the artist got close to his spine, pain radiating up the column of his back. He tensed up, which only made the pain worse. Choking down a groan, he tried to settle back into his thoughts. What hurt more than the needle in his back? 

 

Meeting the Winchesters and realizing it was happening all over, that his brothers would fight again. 

 

Seeing Castiel again after all these years. 

 

The look in Cass’ eyes as he looked at him across a ring of holy fire. 

 

The sight of Lucifer, burning brightly beneath the vessel he was occupying. 

 

The betrayal in Lucifer’s eyes as they circled each other. 

 

Gabriel hadn't even realized he was crying until he felt a tear roll down his cheek and into the pad beneath him. Normally, he would have wiped it away, shrugged it off, but letting it go felt almost as good was feeling the pain did. He took a slow deep breath, hearing the buzz of the gun in his ear, as the artist traced the outline across his shoulder blades. With his back throbbing, he kept adding mental hash marks to his tally. 

 

The tone of Lucifer’s voice when he accused him of being disloyal. 

 

The feel of his brother’s angel blade piercing his flesh. 

 

Dying. 

 

Gabriel buried his face in his arms, taking deep breaths to try and stave off the sobs he could feel brewing in his belly. 

 

Being resurrected. 

 

Losing his wings. 

 

Losing… everything. 

 

Once the member of a large family, he had nothing now. No brothers, no father, no family. He didn’t even have his powers any more. All he had was pain. 

 

But pain had a way of making things clearer, and as it consumed him, Gabriel felt a smile curling at the corners of his lips. His father had given him this life, a new human life that was his, and he had a choice what to do with it. 

 

The buzzing stopped and the artist grinned at him, rubbing his throbbing flesh with clean water. He covered the tattoo in foam, which took the sting away and then layered it with ointment. 

 

The artist gave him a mirror, and Gabriel turned to see what he’d created staring back at him. 

 

These wings were more than mere ornamentation, they would be his protection. Gabriel had put a lot of thought into these tattoos, delving deep into the years he had spent as both an archangel and a pagan demi-god. Woven into the design, cleverly hidden as feathers, were every warding and protection rune he knew in any tongue of human or angel, but that wasn’t all. Carved into his flesh, were the names of the fallen, his brothers, dead, and trapped and lost to him. His past was literally behind him now, footnotes in his new beginning.  

 

He walked out of the shop with his heart feeling lighter than it had in weeks, the rest of his life looming brightly in front of him. 

 

In pain, Gabriel was reborn again from the ashes, his future in his own hands, his own personal spring. 

**Author's Note:**

> You can buy a copy of this wonderful project here: http://spnshortstories.tumblr.com/post/171389864105/still-want-a-copy-of-seasons


End file.
